Backseat Bloodshed
by TwoSistersGrimm
Summary: On a road to nowhere, leaving behind their lives and wives the boys find themselves reevaluating their past together, over a delicious three course meal of college students with car trouble. Massacare and sex ensue.JxP.


**Backseat Bloodshed**

**Chapter: 1/1**

**Authors: BloodSoakedBombShells**

**Fandom: Twilight**

**Pairing: Jasper/Peter**

**Rating: M. Very, very much M, for language, violence, gore and dirty boy smex.**

**Word Count: Just over 7,200**

**Beta: The luscious VampishVixen.**

**AuthorsNote: *le fucking gasp* What's this? Surely lifelesslyndsey and lacym3 haven't made a collab account? Well, yes, yes we have. This little ditty, and any other things we cook up, will be posted on this account. We've got another o/s in the works, and there are talks of a multi-chap, but that's a ways down the line. Enjoy!**

_**Peter**_

That we were driving down an abandoned stretch of Highway 666 was not lost on me. Nor was it lost on Jasper, I'm sure, but he was silent, contemplative, dwelling on what we had just left behind. We had left a lot behind, but mainly our lives. And our wives. Jasper's first, leaving him for his own brother, and then my own, which just...left me. But in the end, we left them both.

It seemed only natural we'd meet somewhere in the middle, and pick up where we left off so many years ago. If I let myself remember hard enough, I could almost smell the blood and dirt and desperation in the air, hiding the smell of sex and lies that Char never seemed to notice when I snuck back her way after my shift of Turning and Burning with Jasper. She never asked questions, taking my cold shoulder as an emotional result of killing of newborns and making more. As if. I just didn't want her to smell him on me.

But that was years ago.

He broke the silence with a grinding growl, irritation rolling off him in waves, so thick I thought I would drown in it. Or try to strangle him.

"Where the fuck are we anyway? I lost track like two states ago," he grunted, faded yellow stripes on the road disappearing beneath the truck one after another as he sped down the deserted high way, fireflies blinking behind the trees.

"Colorado," I explained, lighting another cigarette. The habit had lingered with me, even after death. They still tasted like shit, and burned like hell, but I liked the way the smoke filled me. Breathing deeply, it invaded my lungs, filling me with a false sense of warmth, before seeping out the window in curling, silver lines. "South of Denver. Ain't seen shit for miles, so I can't say for sure."

"Yeah, we ain't seen shit for miles, and I'm fucking hungry," Jasper grumbled, snatching my pack of Camels of the center console, letting the cigarette rest between his lips loosely as he lit it with my stolen silver Zippo. I had always been a bad influence on the Major, if his eyes were any indication. They burned redder then the cherry of the cigarette hanging from his hard mouth.

Turning my gaze towards the window, nothing but trees filling the scenery, I watched the green blur by as I spoke, picking out forest critters as we rushed by. "You're hungry, and I'm bored. There ain't nothing but fucking trees out this way. I ain't eating a fucking fluffy bunny rabbit or deer or whatever shit you ate," I snorted, sarcasm tainting my otherwise calm voice. "You could always go hunt yourself a big old bear. Snag yourself a wild cat. I know how much you love a challenge."

I caught Jasper's grimace in the reflection of the window, red eyes flashing in disgust. "Fuck that. I lived off that shit for years, and for what? For Alice? So I could be more human? That bitch turned me into a goddamn friggin' house pet. She was half a step from flicking me on the nose and calling me naughty. No...I ain't going back to that shit. I am what I am."

"Damned straight," I grunted, catching the glint of lights miles up the road, "You just gotta let yourself enjoy it, you know?"

His grin was feral as he replied. "I enjoyed tearing into the pixie-look alike last night at the bar, didn't I?" he asked, slowing down the truck. "And what do we have here?"

A rusted puke-green van smoked and stuttered on the shoulder of the road. It was one of those old-school boxy pieces of shit, a VW Bus, made for fucking hippies, and hippies fucking. I smirked, watching as a pretty little Asian girl in the driver's seat snubbed out something that wasn't a cigarette, waving smoke from her face as she rolled down the window, beckoning us over.

"Looks like we found ourselves dinner."

_**Jasper**_

Rolling down my window as I pulled to the side of the road, I flicked my half-burnt cigarette out into the rain. Peter was already hanging half-way out of the truck, so I hopped out, following a few steps behind him. The little Asian girl smiled, relief flooding from her body as Peter leaned against the window. I suppressed a chuckle watching him work his magic. Stupid little human.

"Y'all having some trouble?" Peter drawled, laying it on thick. I leaned against the side of the van and grinned at the tall red head leaning over from the passenger seat.

"Yeah," she said, smiling. Her voice had an airy quality to it, and she radiated the kind of calm I had come to crave. "It overheated," she gestured to the smoking hood. "It does this all the time, but I think that the head gasket finally cracked." Peter was nodding along with her every word, expertly pretending to listen to her every word. It was impressive, to say the least.

"Well, that's too bad," he said, propping his elbow in the window of the van. "My buddy and I here, we don't know much about cars... but maybe we could give you a ride?" He gave me a look and I pushed off the side of the van joining him by the window.

"Yeah," I said, resting my hand next to Peter's elbow. "Our truck should fit you-all, and we'll take you anywhere you need to go." I winked at the redhead and she flushed a deep satisfying red. Peter leaned closer to the little Asian, practically purring.

"Can't leave y'all helpless out here in the middle of nowhere, can we?" he asked, and the girl shook her head slowly, staring into Peter's contact-brown eyes.

"No- I mean yes, we'd love a ride," she said, opening her door and climbing out of the van. I ambled around to the other side and opened the passenger-side door, holding it for the redhead as she stepped out. Suddenly, the side door slid open with a screech. A short guy with white-blonde hair stepped out, his glare shifting between both Peter and I. He was radiating pure, unadulterated jealously. I just smiled at him, flashing my teeth and he flinched back, as I expected he would. This fucking pussy had kept quiet and sullen in the back seat, seething with jealousy over the fact that these two women were so obviously charmed by us.

Boo fucking hoo.

I held my hand out to Red and led her to the truck, popping open the third door. Wrapping my hands around her waist I hoisted her up, letting my fingers trail across her ass as she climbed in. Nice and firm and hot as fuck. She giggled and settled in her seat just as Peter helped little Miss Egg Roll climb in next to her. After Jack McFarlan's gayer younger brother was finished plopping down petulantly beside them, I slid behind the wheel and we were off, the cab of the truck thick with the scent of dinner. I swear my fucking stomach growled, but, then again, it was probably just me.

I pulled back onto the road and punched the radio on, turning it to a classic rock station that played mostly music from the sixties and seventies. Good times, the sixties and seventies had been; peace, love, and fucking freedom. And just fucking in general. Humans stumbling around on fire-lit beaches and streets of San Francisco or, really, whatever city I wound up in. Only Alice knew that I would sneak away damn near every week to experience the vibes that those carefree humans radiated. Peace, tranquility, happiness, giddiness, lust, desire and a certain wild abandon that I had never, and probably would never, feel again, with the way the world had turned. I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel as Hendrix's _'Hey Joe'_ floated through the speakers and a smile curled my lips as the anthem-scent of the sixties drifted from the backseat.

A lighter flicked just as I looked over the seat and I saw Carrots take a long drag off a neatly rolled joint, passing it to the little Asian while she held the smoke in for one, two, three, four seconds, slowly exhaling, closing her eyes as she did so. Peter turned and stretched his arm over the seat, eying them with a grin.

"Sharing is caring?" he asked, and the blonde fuck passed it to him after taking a long drag. Peter raised the joint to his lips while still turned toward the back, closing his eyes, letting the smoke fill his mouth and invade his lungs.

"Here man," he said in a strained voice, still holding the smoke in and passed it over to me. I continued the cycle after copying Peter's actions, holding it in for a little longer than I probably should have. It was a waste of weed anyway. The drug would do nothing to us. The vibes coming from the backseat, however, were an entirely different story.

Fuck. I had the munchies.

_**Peter **_

"Hey Red, why don't you squeeze your ass up front?" I said, giving the curvy, quiet Jane a salacious wink, and patting my leg. Jasper shot me a side long glance and I just shrugged, taking the smooth, freckled hand, and helping his dinner into the front seat. She slid clumsily over the center console, firmly settling her weight into my lap. God, humans were hot. Her ass rubbed sweet burning friction against my cock, earning me a nearly silent growl from Jasper.

_"Mine!"_ He whispered under his breath, even as I reached out and licked a line up the redhead's shoulder. Almost predictably, she tasted like cinnamon. I sighed, nudging her forward so she dropped onto the seat between my legs. I was craving the Chinese take-out in the back seat anyway.

"Why don't you keep Jasper company," I purred into Jane's ear, before sliding expertly into the back seat, shoving myself between the bitchy blonde boy and sweet, sweet Candace.

Asian Delight blew a train of heavy smoke rings my way, facing me with her back against the cab window, her tanned, toned legs tucked beneath her. She smirked, resting her head against the cool glass as the rings crashed against the ceiling, smoke filling the cab.

"Ms. Candy," I purred, "Can I call you Candy?"

She grinned wider, revealing a set of perfect white veneers, taking another hint off the neatly rolled joint, and passing it to me. "That depends. What kind of candy do I get to be?"

Quickly, perhaps too quickly, I grabbed her proffered wrist, pulling her to me with a little jerk. She fell forward in the tiny cab, perky breasts crushing against my chest, and I brought her wrist, hand still pinching the joint, to my mouth, licking a trail up her quickening pulse point, "Chocolate, of course."

She didn't really taste like chocolate, more like chamomile and cotton. It wasn't unpleasant .

She laughed, lightly, gasping as I grasped her at her hips, lifting her up from her awkwardly angle and depositing her into my lap. I was hard, hungry, and feeling more than a little freaky at the moment.

"Seriously, you guys?" the bitchy blonde whined beside me, "I'm like right fucking here."

"We noticed," I said absently, watching Candy take in another deep drag from the joint before handing it wordlessly to Josh. He took it with a grumble, breathing in the smoke and looking out the window.

Candy smiled, letting a wisp of smoke escape her lips before pressing her mouth to mine. I opened my mouth, taking in the heavy smoke, and licking at her tongue once before pulling away. Her eyes widened at the taste of my venom, no doubt numbing her mouth somewhat. I released the smoke slowly, watching her through the haze as I forced her hips to grind against me.

There was just nothing like a chick who would fuck around in a truck full of people. I let my hands slide up the inside of her jeans, gripping her ass tightly, and grinding her harder against me. Peeking to the front seat, I could see that the center console had been pushed up, Jane's hand sneaking across Jasper's lap.

Josh, the fucking blonde bitch, continued to grumble. I detached myself from Candy's face, pinning him with a feral look. "Join the party," I said, shifting the little Asian to one leg and patting the other. "There's enough of me for the both of you."

He blushed at this, looking back out the window. "Ah, no thanks. I'll pass," he mumbled, as Candy pulled my face back to hers. I couldn't stand much more of this, the thirst burning my throat, and Candy's constant friction burning my cock.

I threw Jasper a helpless look through the rear view mirror, but he seemed to be doing no better than I; Jane's long, lean body bent prone across the seats, her bobbing red head barely visible from the angle I was at. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, contacts fading quickly, revealing rings of red, and I knew it would have to be soon.

God, it would have to be now, I couldn't take it.

I moved my mouth across the little Asians jaw, kissing down her neck, till I found the soft, steady pulse beating against the tan skin. I licked it firmly, earning myself a breathy little moan. Jasper's eyes caught mine in the mirror and he nodded sharply, giving me the go I wouldn't take without permission. He turned the radio up louder, blaring Lynyrd Skynyrd and the irony of the song could not be ignored.

_There's too much coke and too much smoke _

_Look what's going on inside you _

_Oooh that smell. _

_Can you smell that smell? _

_The smell of death surrounds you! _

My teeth sank through her skin so easily, I was sure she didn't feel it through her hazy high. The blood was sweet, heady and tainted, flowing down my mouth in thick pulls. At last she whimpered, the first trickle of pain biting through the haze and pleasure. Josh grumbled beside me, mistaking the sound for pleasure. He closed his eyes tightly, pressing his forehead hard against the glass.

I returned my attention to the bleeding beauty in my lap. God, this was the sweetest kind of foreplay, blood pouring out of my mouth and down my chin, and her breasts, as she grinded harder against me in her panic. Tilting her head swiftly, and bit clean through her vocal cords, spitting flesh from my mouth against the window with a wet splatter that couldn't be heard over the music. The screaming would come, I was sure of it, like orchestrated horror music before the slaughter. But it wouldn't come from her.

Jasper slowed the truck at the first scent of blood, pulling off to the side of the abandoned road, easing the redhead off his cock with a smirk. He pushed her firmly back into her seat, crawling to her with a very real, quiet growl. Jane's eyes widened, but the gasp on her lips was stolen as Jasper kissed her hard, rough hands digging in her hair, yanking her head back to reveal a long, white expanse of perfect, untouched throat.

The struggle came, even through the ferocious lack of blood, tiny hot palms pressing hard against my shoulders, feeble fists banging against my chest. I let my own hand slip into Candy's silky black hair, pulling her head back, sending a rush of blood into my mouth.

Candy's hand flailed, reaching out to grab Blondie's shirt, rattling him from his daze. He startled, whipping his head around with a curse, "God, don't touch me when your fuc-"

But his words were cut short by the ear splitting scream from the front seat, and the very gruesome, audible tear of flesh, as Jasper ripped open Jane, taking no measure to silence her. Skynard poured from the speakers surrounding us with all its ironic beauty, as blood poured, painting the hazy, smoke-filled cab red.

Blondie was panicking, flattening himself against window, hands scrambling at the handles. Jasper reached back with an irritated growl, clenching Blondie's wrist hard enough to snap. The frantic, fractured hand withdrew with a yelp, and almost lazily, Jasper locked the doors with a click of a button. "Vampires! You're vampires?"

Jasper chuckled through a mouthful of Jane, "Vampires! Vampires! Oh no! You're gonna die!" He mocked, throwing waves of fear and panic at Blondie, until he crumpled against the seat, nothing more than a cowering mess.

There was screaming, his and hers, beautiful music for the moment. I drained Ms. Candy slowly, her useless struggle fading fast, body falling limp in my arms. I wanted to savor her as I watched Jasper devour his victim between the gap in the seats. I could see no more than the bottom half of their bodies, he was seated neatly between her long legs, fingers clenching her thighs hard enough to tear the flesh. He sat up quickly, pulling himself to his knees, and bringing her kicking, protesting body with him. His red eyes caught mine, as he tongued over the vicious rip in her neck, blood pouring down his chin, down her body, like a river of red, which he licked up slowly, taunting me.

Tempting me.

I dropped my meal to the seat, as Jasper pulled the last bit of blood form Jane's limp form. "That's the problem with Asian," I said loftily, as if there wasn't a sick and twisted backseat blood bath happening around me.

"You're always hungry afterward," Jasper finished for me, shoving the redhead's dead body out of his way, and twisting where he sat. He reached back between the seats, grabbing Blondie hard by the back of the neck, bringing him forward between us. "Sharing is caring, and all that," he added airily, licking blood from the corner of his mouth.

Blondie fell back, facing me, crushed between the front seat and my legs, and I smirked, looking down to see the growing wet spot on his jeans. "I do believe he's gone and pissed himself in your truck, Major."

Jasper scowled, shaking the guy roughly, yanking his head back to reveal the long line of his neck to the both of us. "Now that's just fucking rude."

I snorted, sliding my hand over Jasper's and into Blondie's hair, yanking back his head. "Well, scare the fucker any more Jasper, and he's gonna shit himself."

Jasper made a face of pure disgust, muttering even as his mouth descended, "Piss in my fucking truck, you little pansy-ass fucker."

I lifted him up higher, my mouth meeting his flesh even as Jasper's did, our teeth slicing through the sweat soaked skin. I could feel it, every pull he took against my own. Jasper's eyes were closed, blood staining his face, and God, I was still hard, still aching, watching him lose himself in the bloodlust; his face so close to mine that I could feel the hot rush of air escape his nostrils as he growled. Jasper's hands clenched around Blondie's fore arm, snapping the bone to dust, earning a pathetic, wet whimper from Blondie, blood trickling from his dying mouth. Uncomfortable with the situation I was creating for myself, I grinned deviously against the blood heated flesh.

Biting into Blondie's neck, I tore away a mouthful of flesh, spitting it at Jasper with a wet plop. It slapped against his skin, sliding down to leave a trail of smeared blood across his cheek, "Tag, you're it." I said, through a bloody grin.

Jasper growled, pulling back from Blondie's neck, "You bitch!"

I snorted, lapping up a mouthful of blood, from the bleeding gaping wound and spitting it at Jaspers face like a fountain of red. "What are you gonna do about it?"

_**Jasper **_

Peter's fiery red eyes leered at me above a mouth that was twisted into a cocky smirk. God, feeding from that human walking cinnamon stick had my cock straining against my jeans, and the sight and the memory of what those lips could do made me twitch.

That was a long time ago, though. I didn't know if that's what he wanted. You never could tell with Peter, the bastard was always horny. But as far as I knew, he'd gone straight on me.

"Asshat," I grunted, ripping Blondie's shirt off and wiping the blood off my face with it. Reaching over I grabbed Josh's hand and ripped off his middle finger, lobbing it at Peter's face. It hit him in the eye and bounced off, smacking into the window behind him with a muddled thud, leaving a long streak of blood on the glass as it slid down, falling between the door and the seat. That'd be a bitch to fish out later.

"Fuck... dude... is that a finger? Bitch!" he said, shaking his head, cheek smudged with blood. His smirk morphed into a sneer as his hands flashed and before I knew it, a sticky, gelatinous mass smacked off my forehead and slid slowly down the side of my face. I plucked whatever it was from where it had landed on Blondie's naked torso, and had to suppress the urge to shriek like a prepubescent girl when I saw the bloody eyeball in my hand, nerves still dangling from the end. I dropped it quickly and it rolled off the seat and landed on the floor with wet _plop!_ Using the tattered remains of my own shirt, I mopped the eye-blood from my face, and pulled the cloth back, staring at it in disgust.

"Dude... that eye was sticky..." I said slowly. Peter snorted. "Really. I...I mean, I've felt eyeballs before, I guess I just never noticed how sticky they were ..." Peter snorted again, bracing his hands on his thighs and leaned toward me, so close the tip of his nose nearly touched my face. His eyes widened dramatically and, as I looked at him, I started twitching again, my cock rubbing against my jeans painfully. Peter's lips parted, and my eyes darted down to them, eying the flash of pink tongue between perfect white teeth.

"I dare you to eat it," he said, and I jerked back away from him in incredulous disgust. "Eat the eye Jasper. Do it. Eat it, fucker," he taunted, still dangerously close. I scrunched my nose and picked the eyeball up off the floor of the truck where I had thrown it unceremoniously. I eyed the grotesque orb and began to toss it back and forth, from one hand to the other.

"What do I get if I do?" I asked Peter. He shrugged, smirking at me.

"I don't know. What do you want you pussy? A blow job?" I nearly came at the thought, hands clenching so tightly around the eyeball, it threatened to pop. "You don't get shit. Quit being a bitch and eat it. Wuss."

"Don't call me a pussy, bitch. And you have to eat the other one." I sniffed the eyeball and gagged. It smelled like glue. Peter made a sound of disgust deep in his throat and reached down to the face of the corpse still spread on the seat between us, gouging out the other eye between two fingers.

"Fine. But you first," he growled. I held up the eyeball at, well, eye level and smushing it between my fingers a bit.

"Alright then, fucker, watch me." I popped the gooey mass into my mouth quickly and tried my damnedest not to gag over the feel of the juices and... and... and all of the other fucking things and choked it down. I could feel it land in my stomach with a sick, wet smack. That would not be fun to choke back up later. I kept my eyes trained on Peter the entire time, his face twisting into a grimace.

"You're a sick fucker," he hissed with a feral, delicious grin, then shoved the other eyeball into his mouth, swallowing just as quickly as I did. He gagged as it went down and dropped his head, his chin touching his chest. His hands clenched into fists. I shook my hair out of my eyes and smirked evilly when I saw Peter's gaze focus on one of the empty eye sockets. Time for a little fucking pay back for that little impromptu food fight. I pushed out a huge wave of lust, which, in my current condition, wasn't really that hard to work up. Peter gasped and grabbed onto the side of the truck behind him, his eyes nearly popping out of his head.

"Why ya lookin' at that eye socket so hard there Petey? Has it really been that fuckin' long?" I asked with a raised brow. His head snapped up and he glared at me, his crimson eyes narrowed to slits.

"Knock it off fucker, your ass is lookin' a lot purdier than his face right now. You don't want to fuck with me Jasper, you really fucking don't."

How fucking wrong he was.

_**Peter **_

Jasper's wave of lust crashed against me, hard enough to knock the unneeded breath from my chest. So yeah, I had been looking at the eye-socket, and yeah, I had been thinking about skull fucking. Not me skull fucking, just skull fucking in general. Bastard.

I grabbed my now painfully hard cock, adjusting it to lay to the left, careful not to catch the zipper, but the fucker had a mind of its own on a good day, and this was looking like a very bad one. "Shit. I went commando today, you bastard. Now I've gotta sit with my dick rubbing all over rough denim. Ass hat."

"Oh come on, you had that one coming," he laughed, whipping his bloody palms down on his jeans in vain. Everything was thick with congealing dark red blood, bodies piled awkwardly in the truck. This would mean one hell of a clean up later. "Pay back, for the eyeball. Now, let's get this shit outta my car, it's gonna start to stink."

I shifted, grabbing up the little Asian hanging halfway off the seat beneath Blondie, grimacing, "Fuck!" I hissed, as the inside seam of my jeans grated painfully across my cock, "Fuck, Jasper, I can't fucking move! This shit hurts. Make it go away." And fuck, I hadn't meant for that to sound like such an invitation. Reiterating quickly, I added, "Punch me or something, hit me with a wave of something else. Just dude...fix it. I can't take this." I shifted again, growling as the zipped scrapped across my sensitive flesh, and fuck I just couldn't take it anymore.

Without another word, I unzipped my jeans, whipping out my hard dick, and with a shudder of relief. It didn't even fucking matter that I was kneeling there, with my dick just hanging out. It was his fault anyways. Fucker.

Jasper leaned back, still straddling the blonde, his bloody face grinning deviously at me, the flash of a pink tongue between his teeth as his dimples deepened. "Then do something about it."

I pause, just for a moment, contemplate his meaning. Jasper was always full of innuendo, throwing on a perfectly innocuous face so you never knew what the bastard was thinking. And as much as I would have liked to believe he was asking me to whip it out for a little self love, I knew better.

The silence lasted only seconds, but what is a second to a vampire when time matters little? I could feel the awkward tension rise, desperate to dispel it, I chuckled weakly, hand flashing forward to rip out another piece of flesh from our victim.

Jasper watched me cautiously, but even he couldn't predict my intentions as my hands flew across the pile of bodies tearing flesh. With a grin, I slapped him across the face with Blondie's bloody, wet tongue, a sick squelching sound filling the cab. "Smooches!"

Jasper hissed, casting the detached tongue aside. "You sick fucker!" he growled, and God, did that remind me of the old days. Suddenly my body was shivering, trembling with an entirely new onslaught of lust, and I glared, albeit weakly, at Jasper, who was grinning all the more deeply now.

"Seriously, dude!" I whined, falling back onto the seat, legs still tucked up under me, my cock laying flat against my stomach, brushing the soft cotton of my shirt. "Cut it out, or I'm gonna come all over your fancy Italian hand-stitched upholstery." I grabbed my cock with a hiss, glaring defiantly. I seriously fucking would. I didn't even care anymore. I was so hard it hurt, and it was all his fault.

"Do that and your ass is mine!" he growled, his bloody face stern, brows furrowed, mouth set in a hard line, so much like the Major Whitlock I knew.

I hissed, spitting venom, too worked up to really care what I was doing or saying, "Promises, promises. I'm too good for you anyway."

Suddenly I found myself on my back, pressed against cooling corpses, the whole of Jasper's body sliding up between my legs. His left forearm was thrown against my chest, pinning me down. His right hand was splayed across my stomach, wrist brushing the too-sensitive head of my dick, and I shivered because fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Too good for me?" he growled, leaning forward, trapping my cock between our stomachs, "The way I remember, Petey, you use to be real good for me."

I swallowed hard, venom filling my mouth, burning silver trails down my chin. I wanted to say something, anything, but I had nothing to say. What do you say to that? What do you do? I shifted, somewhat, feeling the fragile skin-sack of human bones crush beneath me, as I grinded against him, low, raspy growls escaping my mouth. My eyes were trained on his lips, because I couldn't look at him when I felt so fucking weak. I wasn't weak. I wasn't.

Until the fucker kissed me.

And it all came flooding back, the blood, the bodies, the tearing teeth biting along my jaw. Some of those scars had nothing to do with newborns, some of those scars belonged to Jasper. I felt myself groan low and dirty, as he sank his teeth into the mark, his Mark, the one that left me dead but undying.

And oh fuck, I felt like I was dying all over again as he bit into my lip this time, not enough to tear, but enough to hurt. He nipped, forcing my mouth open, invading me, drowning me, and what the fuck had we been doing all these years without each other? We were fools.

Jasper rolled his body against mine, stealing groans and grunts as he released me, hands moving up along my neck, digging painfully into my hair. His nails scraped sharply across my scalp, yanking back my head to expose the bloody, scarred column of my neck.

He straddled me, crouching over my body, one foot braced against the floor, hands sliding down to press against my chest, fisting my shirt in his palms. He licked clean white trails through the blood, growling against my skin, and I found my voice, found something to say, even if it was just his name growled darkly as I fought to hold on to his hips, "Jasper."

"I missed this," he whispered against my flesh, one hand sliding beneath my shirt, pushing the sticky, red soaked jersey-knit fabric up my stomach. His spine curved as he leaned down, dipping his tongue into my navel, and God, he was a bastard. This was torture. "I missed you."

These things were whispered like secrets, hesitantly pressed into my skin with bloody little kisses.

I missed him too. So I let him know.

I leaned up, propped up on my elbows, to meet his mouth with my own. I could feel this kiss with every part of my body, the smooth slide of his cold blood and venom flavored tongue pressed against my own, curling to meet my every motion, the familiar aggressive push and pull.

He growled, hand slipping down my body, smearing bloody trails with his fingertips as he wrapped his palm around my cock, moving in slow wet strokes as his mouth swallowed my growls with hard kisses.

I missed this.

I missed him.

I arched into his touch without an ounce of shame, because this wasn't new, just momentarily forgotten in the rush of lives and wives. But his hands touched me like they had never left, flesh memories of the history we shared. The secret history where hisses had nothing to do with pain, and the only fire that burned was the fire between us. He hadn't forgotten, hadn't lost the memory of what made me growl and groan, running his palm across the head of my cock before stroking downward, a twist of his wrist, thumb pressing hard on the underside of my dick. I shuddered, bucking up into his hand as he pressed my cock flat against my belly. He laughed when I purred, spraying cum across my own stomach, chest, and for good measure, my face. Silver-white venom mixing with blood forming some parody of pink that he licked away, tongue lapping at my cheek before moving to my mouth and forcing me to taste myself.

He always liked that, the dirty bastard.

He brushed his come-covered thumb across my lips, smirking when my tongue, of its own fucking violation, darted out to lick away the remnants of my orgasm. He let the same thumb ghost across my bottom lip and down my chin, before lifting it to his own lips, just to watch me purr.

"I missed you," he said again, as if I needed a reminder, as I lay beneath him, panting pointlessly, pressed against dead bodies with a lap full of Jasper.

"I missed you too," I said breathlessly, letting myself fall limply against the broken, bloodless bodies beneath me.

_**Jasper **_

I watched Peter from under lowered lids as he lay back with his eyes closed, breathing heavily through flared nostrils. Licking my lips, relishing in the salty taste of him, I leaned back against the window of the truck. Bones crunched, flesh split under my boot heels as I leaned back on my haunches, watching him.

This was the way it was supposed to be. Peter and I, together, like this. Whatever the fuck this was. The back of my head rested against the glass as I appraised him; my hands rested on his thighs. I thought back to his face screwed up in pleasure, the growls, grunts and moans of the old days, and my cock rubbed painfully through the soft cotton of my boxers, against the denim of my jeans. I must have projected my need, my lust, because Peter opened his eyes and came up on his elbow, arm crushing ruthlessly into Candy's face, smashing her cheeks in a way that would have been funny had her eyes not been glazed over in death. Peter's eyes met mine, and he held my gaze as he reached down and shoved his dick back into his jeans, leaving them undone. Swiftly sitting, he crawled toward me, sliding his hand from my shoulder, up my neck and to my hair. I didn't move from my reclined position, and Peter gave me a burning look, leaning toward me, our lips meeting, all hardness and tongues.

There was a passion in me that I hadn't felt in fucking years when I pushed off the door and pulled him against me, groaning lowly against his lips. I instinctively thrust my hips up toward him, trying to relieve at least a fraction of the lust that was raging through my body. Peter reached down for my button and zipper, and had my jeans and boxers down to my knees within a second.

"Jesus_ fuck, _Jasper," Peter grunted as he wrapped his hand around my straining erection, and I slipped, pushing out what I was feeling, and I could tell that he was immediately hard again. My head fell back, hard, and the glass splintered and cracked behind me. I didn't give a fuck; the only thing that mattered was Peter's blonde head lowering along with his body, and his lips that were wrapping around my cock. My fingers went to his hair, and I thrust up, into his mouth and down his throat.

How the fuck had I gone so long without this; without him? Why the fuck had I?

Peter moaned around me, and I almost came right there. His hands cupped my balls, remembering what I liked, and his tongue swirled with every upward bob of his head. I opened my eyes and looked down at him to find him watching me. Our eyes remained locked as I groaned and released into his mouth. Peter swallowed around me, swallowed everything I gave him.

He sat up slowly, licking his lips, and grinned devilishly at me.

"Sucking cock, it's like riding a bike. Once you learn, you can never forget," I laughed lowly, and pulled him in for another kiss. These kisses of ours, the simple caress of lips against lips, were so all encompassing, that I momentarily forgot the pile of bodies we were kneeling on. That is until the stench reached my nostrils, the remnants of our meal were beginning to turn. I hitched my jeans back up over my ass.

"Let's get these fuckers outta my truck, they're starting to fucking smell," I said to him as I zipped and buttoned.

"You have such a fucking way with pillow talk, Jas," Peter told me, but he popped open the third door anyway, and dragged Blondie's corpse out by his hair, and flung him on the ground. Candy followed. I hopped over the seat, and opened the passenger door, kicking Jane's body out of the truck. It flew and hit a tree about ten feet away, bones splintering and piercing her flesh.

"_Oops." _

"Way to go asshole."

"Well it's not like it fucking hurt her, now is it?"

Peter didn't answer me; he just hauled the two bodies over his shoulder, and darted off into the forest. I gathered the redhead's body and followed, finding Peter about ten miles in. He had already dug a hole about ten feet deep, so we unceremoniously dumped the bodies, covered the hole, and hightailed it back to the truck.

We were silent, something strange for us, and I knew that we were both thinking about what had happened back in the truck, and about what was going to happen now. I wanted him, God did I fucking want him. We had denied ourselves for so long, stayed away from each other, for a purpose that seemed frivolous and stupid now. For so long I had thought that Alice was my mate, as Peter thought Charlotte was hers, but now I knew. Peter was my mate. That had to be the fucking reason behind all of it. The burning passion I felt for him, the way we fit together; the reason I was never really comfortable with Alice.

This realization had me looking at Peter, his movements lithe and quick as he ran, a breeze ruffling his hair. I wanted him, I needed him. Now. We reached the truck, and I stopped.

"Peter."

He stopped, and turned to me, a quizzical quirk to his brow. I came against him, pressing him up against the cold metal, feeling the subtle crunch of my front right fender. We looked at each other for a moment, lines creasing both of our foreheads, in seemingly identical questioning looks. I grabbed his hand and brought it down over my dick that was standing at full attention again. He understood, the same way he always seemed to understand me. We climbed into the red-splashed backseat, our clothes quickly cast aside. I had him on his back as I grasped his thick length, stroking, squeezing. Parting his thighs, I rose up on my knees.

"I fucking _need_ you, Peter." I mumbled, and a few seconds later, Zeppelins _Whole Lotta Love_ came on the radio. Our eyes met, and that was it, this was meant to happen, it was fated. Robert Plant deemed it so.

His legs went over my shoulders, and I was amazed that he remembered how I liked it. I raised my hand to my own mouth and drug my tongue over it, coating it. Natures lube, he likes the burning, biting pain anyway. I coated my cock, and eased forward, entering him slowly. Peter stretched around me, and I sank in with a groan.

God, this was where I fucking belonged; surrounded by Peter, trapped within his burning crimson gaze. We didn't waste time with needless talk; we _felt_, experienced every move. I moved his legs down, wrapping them around my waist, moving to kiss him, trapping his cock between us as I did. He was stroked as I thrust, and his eyes rolled back into his head, and I knew neither of us would last long. My hips slapped against his ass as we fucked, and it was fucking glorious.

Spurts of Peter's come coated both our chests as he reached his climax, and I followed soon after, spilling my seed inside of him.

I pulled out immediately, remembering that was what he liked me to do. Peter sat up, and looked down with a smirk at the mess covering his chest. He picked up my t-Shirt, and before I could protest wiped off his chest, staining the fabric with his come. With a laugh, he threw the shirt to me, and I caught it, collective come coating my hands.

"You dirty fucker," I grumbled, but used the same shirt to wipe off my own chest. He laughed at me again, and reached over the seat, grabbing his smokes off the console. Peter pulled out two, and lit both, handing me one wordlessly. Reclined against the seat, the blood soaked upholstery stained our skin with patches of red. I took a deep drag, and let the smoke curl out my nose in thick plumes. Silence near as thick as the smoke hung between us.

"What now?" I asked. He snorted at me.

"We gonna have tender moment now? We gonna stare into the depths of each other's eyes?" He snorted again. "Whisper sweet nothing into each other's ears?"

"And I'm fucking bad with pillow talk?" I drawled at him with a smirk. "I meant, where the fuck are we going now?"

"Does it matter?" he asked, letting his head fall to the side, his lopsided smirk belying the honesty in his eyes. "In the end, we're exactly where we need to be." His hand reached out slowly, curling around my own.

"Pussy," I said, lacing our fingers without another word.

He was right, though.

END.


End file.
